


Vegebul Draft Dump

by vegebul_soup (orphan_account)



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Space, Alternative Universe - High School, Comedy, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:28:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25017004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/vegebul_soup
Summary: This is a collection of vegebul stories that I never ended up finishing, but had enough to offer you some entertainment.
Relationships: Bulma Briefs/Vegeta
Comments: 61
Kudos: 51





	1. Untitled (Football Player/Handler AU)

Her high heels clacked against the polished tile floor as Bulma marched into the master suite of the high rise loft. “It’s time to wake up,” she called as she clapped her hands to rouse the bed’s occupants. She picked up a remote off the dresser and clicked a button that opened the window's automated shades, filling the room with sunlight. 

“What time is it?” Vegeta groaned as he pulled a pillow over his face. A busty woman with messy blonde hair sat up in the bed next to Vegeta, her make up was smeared and her eyes were wide in surprise. She pulled the blankets up to cover her chest as her hand reached over to squeeze Vegeta’s arm. 

“Umm,” she whispered nervously, “Is this your girlfriend?” Vegeta pulled the pillow off his face and sat up to see a bored looking Bulma wearing a sharp black suit and crossing her arms over her chest. 

He smiled and laid back down, “no, that’s my Bulma,” he replied simply. 

“I’m his handler, but regardless,” Bulma picked up, “ it's time for you to go. Your belongings are in a bag on the table, and I left a bottle of water and some aspirin for you as well.” 

The blonde was so confused but began to get out of Vegeta’s bed, stealing the comforter to conceal her nakedness as she left the room. Bulma eyed her suspiciously as she passed, the girl expressed her thanks to Bulma before turning back to Vegeta. 

“Call me?” she asked pathetically. 

“We’ll see,” he replied sitting up in bed again. The blonde frowned and Bulma motioned for her to leave the room. After the girl shyly retreated, Bulma approached Vegeta’s bed. He was smirking at her as he stretched, only the crumpled sheets in his lap hid his manhood, his eyes traced up Bulma’s body before he found her eyes giving him a disapproving look.

“That wasn’t one of the team's dancers, was it?" she asked accusingly. Vegeta looked at the door the blonde exited from before returning his sights to his handler.

“I don’t know, was it?” he asked innocently and Bulma shook her head. 

“She can get kicked off the team for fraternizing with players, you know?” she frowned, but Vegeta just shrugged.

“Clearly that was a risk she was willing to take to get with all this,” he said as he motioned to his muscled body, before laughing. Bulma just rolled her eyes.

“It’s Saturday.” Vegeta thought out loud.

“Yes, and you have practice in two hours,” Bulma reminded. 

“Ok, I’m going to need some coffee.”

“There’s some brewing in the kitchen as we speak.”

“By the way, I wanted to book an appointment with my chiropractor, cause my neck has been feeling a little tweaked.”

“I already booked you one for Tuesday afternoon.”

“Cool, also it's my brother's birthday this month, what should I get him?"

“I bought and mailed him something last week."

“Marry me?”

“I took care of that too, we’ve been married for the last six months,” Bulma joked and Vegeta just smiled at her, so amused and thankful for this woman. “Go take a shower already,” she commanded as she got up.

“You want to join me, wifey?” he purred seductively, but she just shook her head with a laugh and walked out of the room.

* * *

A freshly showered Vegeta entered the kitchen wearing track pants and a team t-shirt. He sauntered over to Bulma, who had been checking her emails. Without looking away from the screen, she handed him his cup of coffee, and he took the seat right next to her and quietly observed. 

He watched her bright cerulean eyes as they scanned over the screen. The corner of his lips quirked up in a half smile, amused, when she made a face he knew meant someone asked her an idiotic question. 

“What?” she asked after she noticed his eyes on her. He looked down at his mug taking a quick sip, pretending as if he hadn’t been staring. 

“By the way, Yamcha’s club opening is tonight, and you’re RSVP’d” Bulma added. 

“Yamcha?” Vegeta repeated, disinterested. 

“Yes, Yamcha, on your team, wide receiver, number 39.”

“Right, right” he waved dismissively as if he didn’t need the reminders. He knew who she was talking about, he was just no good with names. “I’m pretty sure I don’t even like him, why would I go to his club?”

“Because you are a supportive teammate,” she said, "and like I said we’re already RSVP’d.”

“ _We’re_?” he smirked, “So you’re going to be my date?” 

“No,” Bulma laughed, “I have my own date.” Vegeta frowned and looked away but Bulma caught his reaction. She thought he was being overly flirtatious (per usual), but her declaration seemed to actually disappoint him.

“Oh please, don’t act like you’re going to be so lonely now that I’m bringing a date. We’ll walk into that club and a half a dozen women will fall all over you.” 

“Tch,” was his only reply as he stood from the table and walked away, coffee in hand. She wasn't wrong, women flock to him while they’re out in public. He’s handsome and rich, sure, but as the starting quarterback for the West City Wolves, he’s also incredibly famous.

That combination usually attracted a certain type of woman. Those who wanted to bed him simply for the story or the users, who think sleeping with him will somehow help their modeling career.

A few years ago, Vegeta couldn’t care less what a woman’s intentions were and had a lot of sex with a lot of faceless women he never cared to see again. But all the drinking, debauchery, and his playboy reputation were ultimately what led to Bulma being hired. According to the PR team, his actions were a poor reflection on the team, so his agent promised them he would take care of it. 

Enter his handler. She’s basically his personal assistant on steroids but with the authority to tell him he can’t or has to do something.

* * *

While Vegeta was at practice, Bulma met up with her long time friend for brunch. She sat inside the swanky restaurant, alone at the table, scrolling through the latest sports news to see if Vegeta was being talked about. She clicked on an article about the Wolves' successful season opener. Unconsciously a small smile spread across her lips at the picture of Vegeta talking to a sportscaster on the sideline. 

“You’re pathetic,” a voice called from behind and Bulma looked up to see Lazuli coming to join her at the table. “B, you get a few hours away from that jackass and you're looking at pictures of him?” she asked, her icy blue eyes unamused. 

Bulma flushed. “I wasn’t looking at the picture, I’m reading the article!” she said defensively, “part of my job is to monitor the press circulating about him and making sure it's positive.”

Lazuli rolled her eyes, “what isn’t your job when it comes to that prick? Huh? Did you or did you not tell me you kicked some skank out of his bed this morning?”

“First of all, I never called her a skank,” Bulma crossed her arms, “And second, you’re being unfair.”

“No, Bulma, you’re being overworked. Your whole life revolves around Vegeta and his needs. What about _you_?” 

Bulma’s shoulders slumped in defeat, this was a conversation that they’ve had before and she knew what her friend said was true. Being able to throw herself fully into Vegeta and his problems allowed her to ignore her own. It was easier to be consumed by his world than it was to get lost thinking about if she’s made the right moves in her career or reflect on why her personal life was lacking.

“I’m sorry,” Lazuli began, “I don’t mean to be such a bitch about it, it just makes me sad to think that all your boss bitch energy is wasted on someone so undeserving.”

“I really do like this job,” Bulma replied and Lazuli raised an eyebrow. “Okay, maybe not _every_ aspect, but I like the work that I do, all the perks, and I like working with Vegeta. And this really could be a stepping stone for me to do something much bigger.”

“But what about what you’re sacrificing in the meantime? I know you want to find a serious boyfriend, but how can you do that when you spend all your time and energy on another man.” 

It was another truth that was hard to swallow. Saying she was too busy for a relationship was easier than putting herself out there and potentially getting rejected. She hid behind Vegeta in more ways than one. 

“Well I have a date tonight, so we’ll see how that goes.”

Lazuli lit up, “that’s great B! Tell me all about him!”

“He’s super cute, very put together, and a lawyer,” Bulma smiled and her friend clapped with excitement. 

“Ooh! And what are you guys going to do?”

“We’re going to this new club opening,” Bulma cringed as she proved every one of Lazuli’s points. “...with Vegeta…” 

Lazuli just shook her head and flagged down the waitress.

* * *

Vegeta sat in the VIP booth perched above the rest of the club. His arms stretched across the leather seats as he watched the crowd gyrate together to the heavy bass-filled music. He wasn’t really one for clubs, but here he was, wearing the outfit Bulma laid out for him. 

It wasn’t that he couldn’t dress himself, it was just that Bulma always knew what was right and he came to value her opinion over most everyone else’s. He glanced around the crowd, trying to spot her vibrant blue hair. They arrived together, but she left him to go find her date. 

He was chatting up one of his teammates when suddenly he spotted her at the bar. Bulma, who always looked so professional, was clad in a tight, little cocktail dress while some stiff in a business suit was sliding his hand around her waist. Vegeta unconsciously scowled at the sight.

She laughed loudly touching the man’s arm, and Vegeta wondered if it was genuine. He figured he should really save her from having to put up with this guy, so he pulled out his phone and texted her.

‘ _Come back to the booth, I want to ask you something_.’

It was a worthy excuse, enough to allow her to dismiss herself from this loser who was pawing at her. But Vegeta’s plan backfired when she grabbed the man’s hand and brought him along with her over to their booth. 

“Hey, what’s going on?” Bulma greeted as she approached the booth, but before he was forced to come up with an excuse the other man spoke.

“Holy shit! You’re Vegeta Ouji!” 

“The one and only,” he replied coolly. It was a joke Vegeta liked to make for himself, fans never bothered to correct him. He wasn’t the ‘ _one and only_ ’ as his famous father held the same name.

The man reached out his hand for Vegeta to shake and proceeded to tell him his name (which Vegeta immediately filed as too unimportant to remember) and what a big fan of the Wolves he was.

He looked over to Bulma, “I can’t believe you didn’t mention you work with Vegeta Ouji! That’s so cool!”

“Yup,” Bulma said with a tight lipped smile, clearly trying to hide her annoyance at the interruption. “Was there something you needed, Vegeta?” 

Bulma’s date chimed in again, “I know this is probably so dumb to you, but could I get your thoughts on my fantasy line up?” He smiled hopefully at Vegeta, who raised an unimpressed eyebrow at him. 

The silent pause made the man’s smile falter, “I’m sorry, that’s so lame… forget it.” Vegeta’s eyes tracked the motion as the man slipped an arm around Bulma’s waist in an overly familiar gesture.

Vegeta suddenly plastered on his TV interview face, his face brightening at the man. “Of course I can, anything for a fan! But I better be on that lineup!” Vegeta laughed. 

His face lit up as he released Bulma and slid into the booth to show Vegeta his phone. Bulma plopped down into the booth after him with a huff. This situation was all too familiar. Every time she thought to impress a guy with her connections in professional football, they either ended up threatened by Vegeta or enamored by him. She should know better by now.

Bulma’s elbows leaned against the table, supporting her face in her hand as she waved over the waitress, ordered their most expensive bottle of champagne, and put it on Vegeta’s tab. She knew she was being passive-aggressive, but she figured he probably wouldn’t even notice.

Thirty minutes passed and Bulma polished off her third glass of bubbly. Feeling pleasantly buzzed and anxious to get on the dancefloor, she tapped on her date’s shoulder to interrupt his seemingly endless conversation with Vegeta.

“I want to go dance,” she told him.

“I’m okay, but you go on ahead!” he replied obliviously, before turning back to Vegeta. 

“Fine! I will!” Bulma growled, standing abruptly from her seat and marching over to the dance floor.

Vegeta could tell this guy was dense, but how could he not have realized that was an invitation. He saw how pissed Bulma was that her date hadn’t been paying her any attention, but Vegeta didn’t like this guy’s hands on her and if he entertained this conversation he could prevent it. 

Bulma’s date continued to talk, telling Vegeta about how he had been the quarterback of his high school’s football team, but Vegeta’s focus was elsewhere as he watched Bulma meander through the crowds into the center of the dancefloor. She began moving, swaying her hips to the rhythm of the music. She was dancing by herself, _for herself_ , not concerned by anyone around her. She just closed her eyes and moved, and Vegeta found himself wondering what she was thinking about.

Bulma returned to the table glistening with sweat from her dancing, she picked up the champagne and took a swig directly from the bottle. “Alright, I’m ready to leave,” she announced to the men sitting in the booth. 

Her date looked down at his watch, startled by the amount of time that had passed. “Did you want to come back to my place?” he asked her.

Bulma looked at him in disbelief, “Are you kidding me? Did you seriously think for even a second that I would fuck you after you’ve been ignoring me?” She took another aggressive swig of her drink and wiped her mouth on the back of her hand. “I would’ve thought you had your fill sucking Vegeta’s dick for the last two hours.”

The man’s mouth dropped open and Vegeta covered his mouth to hide his snickering. As if just remembering he was there, Bulma turned her glare to Vegeta. 

“Shut the fuck up,” she growled before gulping down more champagne. Vegeta had never seen Bulma act like this, he was honestly pretty amused by her hostility. 

“Let’s go already!” Bulma yelled at him and Vegeta quickly slid out of the booth, giving a little salute to Bulma’s abandoned date. The pair walked through the club to the back exit where Vegeta’s driver was waiting. 

He snatched the champagne from her hand and took a swig. “Hey! That’s mine!” Bulma whined as she tried to take back the bottle, but her drunken reflexes were too slow and Vegeta pulled it away. 

“Oh really? I’m pretty sure you weren’t the one who paid the 80,000 zeni for it,” he whispered to her, a smirk tugging at his lips. 

Bulma shoved him, though her strength was ineffectual against the broad football player. “You’re so annoying,” she pouted. “I can’t believe you stole my date because you were jealous!”

Vegeta was about to take another drink when her last word gave him pause. 

_Jealous?_

He wasn’t jealous. That would be ridiculous. That guy wasn’t worth his jealousy. He just didn’t like how familiar he acted with Bulma, the way he touched her like he owned her… it just rubbed him the wrong way. If anything he was doing her a favor by keeping that guy’s grimey hands off of her. 

“I wasn’t jealous,” Vegeta said flatly, before taking the last swig of champagne. He abandoned the empty bottle on a waiter’s tray as they exited the back door of the building. His driver was waiting outside next to a sleek, black SUV. Bulma stopped and planted her hands on her hips, a frown on her face. 

Vegeta opened the door and stared at her, “get in the car, woman.”

“Not until you admit that you were jealous of me!”

* * *

Wait, what?!” he asked, genuinely confused. She thought he was _jealous of her_?!

Bulma marched up to him and poked him hard in the chest. “You heard me! You were jealous that for once you weren’t the center of attention! You stole my date from me so he could stroke your ego!” 

Vegeta’s mouth fell open, completely speechless.

“Ugh! Get out of my way,” Bulma muttered as she pushed him aside and climbed into the SUV. 

Vegeta got in after her, feeling awkward and ashamed. They sat in silence for several tense minutes as Vegeta stared out the window trying to figure out what he was feeling. 

He was jealous of not being the center of attention? That made more sense, right? Why would he be jealous of Bulma’s date? That would be stupid. That would imply that he wanted her in that way… and well he didn’t. So that was that. 

“Bulma…” he muttered as he continued staring out the window, but she didn’t respond. With a sigh he turned towards her, only to find her passed out against the window, her mouth slightly open and letting out a soft snore. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

* * *

* * *

I started writing this a while ago, then I revisited it around September 2019. I just never ended up feeling inspired enough to finish it, I had some ideas to take this in a more angsty direction but never felt as though it had a clear resolution. The idea was that they were going to have this like Tony Stark/Pepper Potts dynamic with a hint of #mutualpining. I think another thing that prevented me from posting this was fear of people disliking Vegeta’s characterization, like saying he sexually harasses her or that he’s a man child or something. 

But yeah, I hope you enjoyed this little excerpt. As always I'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments!


	2. Truly, Madly, Deeply (Titanic AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bulma gets engaged to a high ranking officer in the Planet Trade Organization to ensure her family’s safety. When traveling through space to the planet she is to reside on with her new husband, she falls in love with another of the ship’s passengers.

It had only been a year since the Earth had been colonized, or rather enslaved, by the Planet Trade Organization. Bulma had never felt more hopeless than the day they arrived. Maybe that's not true, last week was pretty bad too.

Just seven days ago, high ranking officers from the PTO came to Earth to recruit scientists. Though Earth's technology hadn't advanced to high-speed intergalactic travel, many inventors and engineers had creations that interested the PTO. With Capsule Corp being one of the planet's most prominent companies, it wasn't long until the officers made their way to the Briefs residence.

They originally wanted Dr. Briefs to come with them, when he politely declined, it became apparent he wasn't being given the option. Bulma, who had been completely disregarded, refused to stand by and watch these aliens take her father away, so she volunteered to go in his place. After she piped up the officers actually paid her some attention, as her mother's tears turned into full-on sobs.

A tall, green-haired officer approached her and ran his fingers through Bulma's cerulean locks. It took everything in her not to lurch back at his invasive touch. His amber eyes narrowed as he scrutinized her appearance before he leaned in close and smelt her. Bulma was confused about how her scent had anything to do with her proficiency in the lab, but then it dawned on her, she would likely not step foot in a lab again.

His whispered praises of her 'exotic' beauty that sent an uncomfortable shiver down her spine. The officer finally backed away and informed Dr. Briefs that he could stay if Bulma agreed to marry him. She protested saying that she was a scientist, not some mail-order bride, but her complaints were ignored.

It wasn't the first time her beauty had overshadowed her brains.

Dr. Briefs begged them not to take Bulma and offered everything else he had instead. But they made it very clear, it was her or him. Bulma consoled her father and let him know she would still go because she would do whatever it took to keep them safe. So she packed her bags, gave a tear-filled goodbye to her parents, and left with the PTO officers for a life that was completely unknown.

Bulma was now on a massive intergalactic vessel en route to the planet she was to live on with her future husband. It was basically a glorified cruise ship; if you had the money or status for the accommodations on the upper deck. The lower decks were far less lavish and transported large groups of soldiers, slaves, or other various cargo. By Bulma's estimates, she was one of thousands who was being ferried to this new planet.

The blue-haired beauty sat in an opulent banquet hall next to her fiancé, Zarbon. She moved the food around her plate with her fork, not hungry enough to eat the unknown alien cuisine. The couple was seated at a table among Frieza's highest-ranking officers, many of them laughing and drinking. The stories they told were almost exclusively boastful of their power or belittling of another's. Bulma tried not to roll her eyes.

She glanced over at Zarbon, who was sipping his wine. He was handsome enough, even despite his bluish-green complexion, but there was something about his presence that inexplicably made Bulma's skin crawl. Needing a moment alone, she excused herself from the table without a word and made her way down the hall to a restroom. Bulma stared into the bathroom mirror, but only a hollow shell of her former self looked back.

She combed her fingers through the waves of her blue hair and readjusted the sparkly, silver backless gown she was wearing. It was a dress she would've loved if she had been wearing it to the Capsule Corp Christmas party, but instead, the dress only reminded her she was destined to be some alien's shiny, little trophy wife.

' _Just a pretty accessory_ ,' she thought to herself with a sigh.

Bulma couldn't believe after all that she had done, the adventures she'd braved, the inventions she made, that _this_ is what her life amounted to. When she offered to take her father's place, she was in the mindset that she had to do everything she could to survive. But as the days passed, this life stopped feeling like one that would be worth living.

Bulma lowered her gaze and softly shook her head. She really didn't want to think like that, so she tried to make a mental list of all the good things she had left in her life. The imaginary list was depressingly short, and she couldn't even include her parents, she may never see them again. Its also very possible that the PTO officers lied and they took her father after she left, and she would never know.

After washing her hands, Bulma exited the bathroom and found an annoyed Zarbon waiting for her in the hall. She returned his scowl with an equally irritated glare. He definitely wasn't there because he was concerned for her well being or anything. Bulma huffed before turning to rejoin the banquet but Zarbon lunged forward, grabbed her by the neck with painful force, and pinned her to a nearby wall.

"You belong to me now," Zarbon growled against her mouth, "you better tell me where you're going and how long you'll be gone, you got that?" Bulma narrowed her blue eyes and stared defiantly at her fiancé, but it was only a moment before she lost her nerve and looked away. Her submission caused a disgustingly satisfied smirk to cross Zarbon's face.

There was once a time in her life that Bulma would have kneed a man right in the junk for even daring talk to her like that, let alone claiming to own her like some kind of property. But life wasn't what it used to be. Not even close.

"I'm going to retire for the night," she mumbled, her words strained due to his harsh grip.

"I think that's for the best," Zarbon agreed before he released her and strolled back to the banquet without looking back.

Bulma couldn't stop the gag that escaped her mouth. She slumped against the wall and gingerly touched her now sore throat, she knew this would likely only be the first time in a pattern of abuse. Not only was she being forced into a loveless marriage, but now she could add the looming threat of physical harm into the mix. Her situation looked even more dismal.

Bulma closed her eyes and inhaled a deep breath to regain her composure before she pushed off the wall and walked down the expansive hallway of the ship. Her heels clacked against the faint yellow tiles. When she made it to the door of her room, she just blew past it and continued on her way, no particular destination in mind.

As Bulma ventured into an area of the ship that was no longer familiar, she felt her curiosity come out to play. She tried to open random doors, intrigued by what she might find. Many of the doors only required the push of a button to open, others a code, and some a scan of one's hand. If she had the tools and the will, she was confident she could have gained entry into any of the doors.

Soon, her feet ached from trekking through the halls in the elegant, strappy heels she wore. She wondered how long she had been meandering through the ship, but decided to remedy the issue rather than give up on her adventure. She lifted her foot and removed one shoe at a time.

The cold tile of the ship's hallway was soothing on her sore feet. Bulma uncaringly abandoned her shoes in an unlocked room and continued to wander, her silver gown dragged on the floor around her bare feet.

The blue-haired heiress came upon a door at the end of the hall that revealed flights of stairs that dove several stories deep into the ship. She made her way down the steps, but after the third flight or so she opened the door to find a large empty room with high ceilings. As she scanned the room with her curious blue eyes, she found that a far wall sported a massive window.

As if under a spell, Bulma eyes were fixed on the window that stood twenty feet high and at least forty feet wide, moments later she found herself standing at its base. Outside the window was an insanely stunning view of outer space. Inconceivable darkness was freckled with twinkling stars and distant planets. A sight, Bulma knew, few humans had ever witnessed.

As she stared into the vastness of space, her dreadful thoughts from the bathroom returned. The beautiful sight outside the window only reminded her that the future where she explored distant galaxies no longer existed. Comparing her past dreams to her new fate, she wondered if the daily struggle with Zarbon was worth living through.

"You're not supposed to be down here," a velvety deep voice declared from a distance.

Bulma ignored the warning, unperturbed by any consequences her wandering through the ship may have. Only a moment passed before she heard footsteps. Not away, but rather right towards her. The owner of the voice stopped just behind her, and Bulma felt the heat that emanated off of him on the skin of her exposed back.

She figured this was him trying to intimidate her with his proximity, but it surprisingly had the reverse effect. His heated presence was the polar opposite of her fiancé's clammy, frog-like skin, it was almost comforting more than anything.

"You know, it would only take about fifteen seconds for me suffocate if I could get out there," she thought out loud, her gaze still fixed on the black abyss outside the window. She was shocked to hear him snort a laugh at her depressed musings.

"I suppose it is a lovely night to contemplate one's own death," the stranger replied. Bulma shot a vicious look over her shoulder, she just admitted she was seriously contemplating ways to end her miserable existence, and this guy had the gall to be sarcastic!

Behind her, she found a surprisingly handsome, human-like man standing proud with his arms crossed tightly over the chest plate of his armor. His thick black hair sat atop his head like a regal flame. His dark eyes danced with amusement at her obvious appall provoked by his response.

Bulma wanted to yell at him for making light of her dark thoughts, but she was too fixated on his appearance. She hadn't seen another human since she left Earth several days ago, it wasn't until now she realized how comforting a familiar looking face could be.

"Are you human?" Bulma asked hopefully. Without thinking, she lifted her hand to touch him, as if to make sure he was real. He caught her forearm in a firm grip, eyed her suspiciously, then let out a soft chuckle.

This guy must have thought her a comedian because he laughed at everything she said.

"Fortunately, not," he replied amused, "I hear humans are rather weak." The soldier's onyx eyes gave her a once over before his grip on slid up to her bicep and softly squeezed, presumably to feel her nonexistent muscles. "I would say you're evidence that the rumors are true," he concluded.

Bulma was aware that he was being insulting, basically calling her an inferior race to whatever he was. But she couldn't get over how someone who seemed so powerful touched her so gently, especially after being manhandled by Zarbon earlier in the evening.

"Someone as weak as you shouldn't be in a place like this all alone. You don't know who you might run into," the soldier said with a devilish smirk, as his grip holding her arm tightened. His words imitated a threat, but his tone was more of a challenge.

He was daring her to be afraid of him, clearly he gets off on intimidation, but Bulma refused to give him the satisfaction.

"You won't hurt me," she declared confidently, as her blue eyes returned his intense stare. She was right, he didn't actually intend on hurting her, but she didn't know that. And seemingly real stakes are what makes this cat and mouse game all the more fun, so he decided to double down and lean in closer.

Bulma felt her heartbeat accelerate as the space between them lessened. She was frightened but also confused by the tension coiling in the pit of her stomach. Okay sure, he was drop dead gorgeous by Earth standards but now was not the time to imagine him ripping off her clothes and ravishing her with his dangerous hands.

"And why wouldn't I?" he whispered, his nose only inches from hers. "I already know you have a death wish."

Bulma pursed her lips, his allusion to her earlier comment bringing her out of their heated moment. "It's not that I really want to die," she explained. Her apparent mood shift caused him to pull away, as the alluring smolder in his eyes took on a more neutral expression.

"It's just I was taken from my home planet not long ago. There I was considered one of the most brilliant and beautiful women. I had friends and money and wonderfully supportive parents. I went on adventures and invented things. It was a charmed life, okay? And now I'm a glorified prisoner," she continued with a frown. The soldier just closed his eyes and huffed a breath out his nose while shaking his head.

"Don't even get me started on how my life would differ if I was still on my home planet," he laughed.

Bulma looked down at the floor, suddenly ashamed. Of course, she wasn't the only one around here who had been plucked from a perfectly happy life. She was all bent out of shape about being arm candy for the rest of her life when she could've been a slave. She was openly complaining in front of a stranger, who could've had a much worse situation. Her self-chastising was promptly interrupted by the soldier's deep voice.

"So do have some kind of death fetish then?" he teased, "because you seemed kind of turned on when I implied I could kill you." He was going to fluster her one way or another.

She knew he only said it to get a rise out of her, but she couldn't help the way her eyes grew wide and the blush that spread across her face as he spoke. Okay maybe she got caught up in the starry beauty of space and a debonair stranger standing really close, but that didn't mean anything!

"Aagghh!" Bulma screamed in frustration as she shoved the soldier away from her. "Get away from me, you jerk!" She stomped away then she realized there were a lot of doors in this room and she didn't know which one she came from. The blue-haired beauty turned from left to right, but couldn't figure out where to go. She heard the soldier snickering behind her, obviously watching her struggle, so she turned around to scowl at him.

"You don't even know where you are, do you?" he questioned with a smirk. Bulma felt the heat rising in her face from a combination of anger and embarrassment.

"What is your problem!?" she practically screamed. She was sick of this guy and his weird games.

"Quit your screeching," he complained, his tone was flat like when he first told her she shouldn't be there. His arms crossed again as he stood in front of the window where she left him. His form was completely surrounded by the breathtaking view from the window, and Bulma couldn't help but notice how good he looked. A few moments had passed when she realized she'd been staring.

"Ok fine. I don't know where I am, and that's why you're going to take me back to my quarters," she commanded as she put her hands on her hips.

He narrowed his eyes at her. This little, human woman was such an enigma. She wandered around a ship full of murderers completely unprotected, and when she ran into one of those said murderers, she pretended to be completely unaffected. She was so physically weak, yet she had the audacity to demand a favor of him. How curious.

"Yeah, no, I don't think I will," he replied in a bored tone before he turned and walked away. The human's novelty was interesting for a moment but he was over it now.

Bulma figured the soldier wouldn't react to her demands the same way as her male friends back on Earth did. So she decided to pull out Plan B and annoy him instead. Bulma lifted the hem of her dress off the ground so she could jog up next to the soldier and match his pace.

"Ok, that's fine," she shrugged, "I'll just follow you wherever you go." He frowned and gave her an irritable side-eye, but she just looked at him with an obnoxiously bright smile. He growled in frustration and she knew she had won. He stopped in his tracks to face her.

"Do you have any clue where your quarters are?" he said annoyed. Messing with her had been fair entertainment, but now it didn't even seem worth it.

"The top deck," Bulma replied with little confidence. The soldier stared at her with his dark eyes, expecting her to further elaborate. "Um, do you know where Zarbon's room is?" she continued, really banking on him having an in-depth knowledge of the ship and its high ranking officers.

"Zarbon?" he questioned like she had just said something disgusting.

"Yeah, Zarbon. He's my..." she swallowed, still uncomfortable calling him this, "fiancé."

He couldn't help the look on his face, it was a combination of confusion, disgust, and pity. The soldier abruptly turned to hide his emotions and continued walking again.

'No wonder she wants to kill herself', Bulma thought she heard him mumble.

She followed closely behind her escort, her bare feet padded on the cool tile. She found his reaction to hearing Zarbon's name rather confusing. ' _What kind of reputation did her future husband have? Did this stranger have some sort of history with him? Was he worried for her?',_ her thoughts ran a mile a minute.

Most shockingly the question that kept resurfacing was if she would ever see this soldier again. She realized she hoped that she would. Being around him, with his human-looking features and his irritatingly challenging personality, made Bulma feel like her old self again.

The soldier pushed a series of buttons on a keypad and a door that turned out to be an elevator opened. He gestured for Bulma to enter, then he followed her in and pressed the button for the top deck. They stood side by side in the elevator as it began to rise.

She caught him looking at her out of the corner of his eye. She wondered what he was thinking, hoping that maybe he wanted to see her again too.

"Why aren't you wearing any shoes?" he asked out of the blue. Well, that's not what she thought he was going to say.

"I took them off. They were hurting my feet," she answered honestly. Bulma decided to just pipe up and ask what she was dying to know. "Will I ever see you again?" her voice came out small and shy. She suddenly felt embarrassed.

Without looking at her he smirked. "You'd like that wouldn't you?" he replied arrogantly. '

 _This smug bastard!_ ' Bulma fumed internally. He just _had_ pushed her buttons, didn't he? Why did she even want to see him again?

"Never mind, I hope you die," she huffed.

"Hmm," he hummed, "more death fetish stuff? Not sure it's my kink, but I appreciate your interest."

Bulma's face turned tomato red, so embarrassed and angry at his insolence. She was about to unleash her fury on this vexing soldier when the elevator doors opened.

Zarbon was standing in the hallway, waiting to enter the elevator when he spotted the two of them together. His clammy, green hand gripped the door frame with terrible force as he gave the meanest scowl to the soldier.

"Vegeta!" Zarbon growled in irritated surprise, "what are you doing with _her_?" Though terrified by what Zarbon might do, Bulma smiled the tiniest smile when she learned the name of her anonymous solider.

Vegeta looked over at Bulma, feigning surprise like he hadn't even noticed she had been standing there. "I don't know this human," he shrugged before ducking under Zarbon's arm and out the elevator door. After he was behind Zarbon's back, black eyes met blue one last time before he strode down the hallway. Bulma could've sworn he winked.

She supposed his statement wasn't _untrue_ , they never did exchange names. But now one of her earlier questions was answered, Zarbon and Vegeta definitely knew each other.

Bulma exited the elevator and smiled innocently at Zarbon. "I got all turned around on my way back to our room," she lied with mock sweetness, "this ship is so very big, I'm so glad you found me."

She was relieved when he didn't contest her story. He just grabbed her by the wrist and lead her to their quarters.

Bulma was thankful that Zarbon bought her totally ignorant, 'I got lost' act. She was worried he might hurt her again but he didn't, at least not yet. As the days passed, the way Zarbon treated her made her feel more like his pet than his bride-to-be.

Just about everything he did was some way to exercise his control over her. He always wanted her to look nice, but never talk. Be seen and admired by others, but never engage. The lack of interaction often had Bulma lost in her own thoughts, uncaring of her present situation.

She had imaginary conversations, played out different scenarios in her mind, and crafted her responses for each given exchange. Most often she thought of Vegeta, the bothersome soldier.

She would picture herself embarrassing and flustering him the way he had done to her, just a few nights prior. Bulma found herself again hoping to see him again, even if it was now just to deliver her well thought out insults and comebacks.

Bulma left her room one morning on a mission to find a nice spot to read. She sashayed through the halls in a long-sleeved crop top and leggings, made of the same tight stretchy material most of the soldiers wore under their armor. She hugged a book tightly to her chest. It was one of her favorite novels she had packed from Earth. With her abundance of free time and limited reading choices, this was the third or fourth time she's read it, but she still enjoyed it every time.

Wandering through the ship and discovering a comfy nook to read in became one of her favorite pastimes. Though she was becoming more and more familiar with the ship, she found there were still so many places she had never been.

Bulma pushed the button to open the door at the end of an unexplored corridor. On the other side of the door was what appeared to be a gymnasium of sorts, where a dozen or so soldiers were duking it out. The sounds that accompanied their fighting were a little unsettling, the pained grunts and the sounds of fists pounding flesh. It was apparent no one was holding back.

The soldiers were in various states of dress, but no one wore their armor. Bulma figured that perhaps the

increased vulnerability enhanced their training. As blue eyes scanned the scene before her, she spotted a familiar flame-haired warrior. Vegeta was shirtless, his tanned skin was littered with scars and slick with sweat. His sculpted muscles rippled with every attack against an opponent who was much larger than he.

Bulma couldn't help but stare. His movements were so precise, his body a lethal weapon. She cringed as each of Vegeta's forceful blows turned his opponent into a bloody mess, but she couldn't look away. She was mesmerized by the hint of grace that seemed to accompany his brutality. When he went to deliver a particularly powerful kick to his foe's face, Bulma let out a loud, involuntary gasp. Before she could cover her mouth everyone had heard.

Her response to the fight was so out of place everyone peered over at her with confusion. Even those who had also been fighting stopped, to stare at the intruder. Vegeta glared in the direction of the disruption and his eyes narrowed in recognition. It was the blue-haired human from a few nights ago, what an interesting surprise.

"What do you think your-" a gravelly voice called, but before the stranger could finish his question, Vegeta held up a hand to silence him. Vegeta abandoned his semiconscious opponent and sauntered toward Bulma like a predatory panther. Her heart rate increased as the distance between them closed. The other soldiers ceased their staring and resumed their training when he reached their unwelcome visitor.

"You stalking me is flattering and all, but you really shouldn't be here," Vegeta teased, as he took in her appearance.

Bulma heard him, but her brain was having trouble functioning. In all the mental conversations she had with him, she would give a snarky comeback to his obvious self-importance, but she had never factored in a distraction like his unclothed body.

Up close his muscles seemed even more unreal like they had been carved out of stone. The scars proved his body's battle-tested abilities. His natural masculine scent was intensified by his exercise, but it was surprisingly pleasant. Her mouth salivated like he was some big hunky piece of meat, she wanted to sink her teeth into.

Vegeta smirked, knowing her wandering eyes were admiring his physique. He liked the way her silent gaze praised, even lusted, his body. He took a step closer to gage how badly she really wanted him, but she jumped, throwing her back against the wall and her book hung loosely in one hand. He lifted a questioning eyebrow in response to her sudden movements.

"Oh, so now you're scared? he chuckled, that was the reaction he expected at their first encounter.

Bulma surprised herself with her response. When they met, she could tell he was strong, but watching him beat a man to a bloody pulp made her instincts choose flight. But that wouldn't do. No way! She had to show him she was a fighter. Where were all the clever insults she came up with for this exact moment?

"I'm not scared of you, you just reek," Bulma lied. Okay, calling him smelly wasn't that creative, but at least it made sense. "Also, I'm not a stalker. I was just passing through, I didn't even know you'd be in here," she said in an attempt to justify her presence. Shit, this was not how she envisioned this moment going.

The denial of her obvious fear and arousal just spurred Vegeta further. He planned to pester this little human until she acknowledged her body's reaction to him. He knew exactly what card to play to fluster her. He placed a hand on the wall next to her head and gazed into her ocean blue eyes.

"If this wasn't your destination, what made you stay, _Bulma_?" he questioned knowingly as he watched for her reaction.

An array of emotions washed over her in an instant as his intense charcoal eyes pinned her to the wall. Bulma was embarrassed, his tone implied he knew she observed his fight and that her eyes coveted his godlike body as she did.

But the most unnerving part of his question was that he addressed her by a name she never told him. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach at the idea of Vegeta thinking of her, so much so that he felt compelled to learn her identity. Once again, Bulma was left flushed and speechless by a question from the handsome soldier.

The use of her name elicited the exact reaction Vegeta had hoped for. Yes, he had done some digging on Zarbon's enigmatic fiancé in order to learn her name. He'd be lying if he said he hadn't thought about her in the days that followed their interaction. Her ethereal beauty and fiery temperament haunted his dreams. The shade of blue shared by her hair and eyes was so rare in the bleak spaceship they resided that Vegeta found himself fixated on it.

Bulma knew this was a perfect opening for the sweet revenge she had fantasized about, but Vegeta's proximity made it increasingly difficult to regain enough composure to respond. She was determined to beat him at his own little game, so she took a deep breath through the nose before giving her reply.

"Now who's stalking who, _Vegeta_?" she purred his name seductively before she bit her lip. The plan was simple, get him all hot and bothered, then humiliate him by laughing at his arousal.

So basically just do what he did to her. All that mattered was the plan was effective, who cared if it was original.

Vegeta knew right away that her shift in tone had an ulterior motive. The fact that Bulma wanted to engage him in a game of sexual chicken was a new and entertaining level to their interaction. Was she trying to prove to him or herself that she wasn't scared? Either way, he was curious to see how far the human would take this.

Bulma was startled when she felt something soft and furry wrap around her thigh, the surprise caused her to gasp and drop her book. She peered down to discover a simian tail belonging to Vegeta, as it tickled her inner thigh. The sensation added to the heat that pooled between her legs, and she accidentally let a soft moan. She returned her sights to Vegeta hoping he didn't hear, but he did and he looked especially smug now.

Each time Bulma thought to pull away and proceed with her plan, her body resisted as if it wanted just a few more moments of contact with him. He opened his mouth to reply when someone barged in through a door on the opposite end of the gymnasium. The other soldiers in the room ceased their fighting once more to give their attention to the latest intruder.

"Where's Vegeta?" Bulma's fiancé roared.

Wow, Zarbon's voice was such a boner killer.

Vegeta unwrapped his tail from her thigh and turned around with haste to face an approaching Zarbon. The room was silent, save the sound of his steps against the tiled floor.

"Playing with things that don't belong to you, I see?" Zarbon accused. Bulma grimaced at the implication of being a possession. Vegeta shrugged which further enraged the blue-haired human's fiancé. He lunged forward and delivered a powerful punch directly into Vegeta's gut.

Vegeta tensed but he didn't dodge, just taking the blow head on. He leaned over and clutched his stomach as his mouth pressed into a hard line, refusing to let out any indication of pain.

Bulma was so confused by this exchange after she had seen Vegeta's speed and strength only minutes ago. Why didn't he do anything? Why would he just let himself be hit?

"Keep your filthy monkey hands to yourself," Zarbon spat before he turned to Bulma. He grabbed her forcefully by the wrist and dragged her out of the room, while her book laid abandoned on the floor.

* * *

Bulma laid in her bed and stared blankly at the ceiling. Her eyes were red and puffy from continuous crying, and her throat felt scratchy from last night's screaming. She contemplated where to go from here.

She knew what she needed to do, but formulating and executing an escape plan would take awhile. Bulma needed a short term solution to buy her some time. This would not be her life. She wasn't destined to be a victim.

When she spared a glance at the clock, the time was approaching midday. Bulma decided to get up, get dressed, and try to be productive. She ventured to her closet and clothed herself in leggings and a more modest top that concealed the majority of her injuries. She wished she had packed a scarf, that way she could cover her neck.

Midday was the most common time for soldiers and ship workers to be eating in the cafeteria. Bulma herself didn't usually eat there, as most of her food was delivered directly to her room, but today she made her way into the loud mess hall.

Rows upon rows of utilitarian tables lined the room. Boisterous soldiers laughed and stuffed their faces unceremoniously. Like the gymnasium, it was apparent Bulma was out of place, and she could feel the eyes on her and heard whispers as she passed. She searched the vast room for one soldier in particular.

At a table in the far corner of the room, Vegeta sat alone with three trays of food, apparently all belonging to him. She was thankful he was without company.

"Just the man I was looking for," Bulma said with a smile as she approached.

"I'd rather not get punched in the gut after this meal, so why don't you just run along," Vegeta replied without looking up. He continued shoveling food into his mouth as if she wasn't there.

Bulma sat without invitation and purposefully cleared her throat to garner his attention.

He shot her an annoyed look. Sure, this human was easy on the eyes and feisty in a way that made her an interesting challenge, but he was really trying to fly under the radar these days and getting involved in any capacity with Zarbon's fiancé would certain get him beaten to near death by the green alien's goon squad.

Vegeta ran his eyes over her form, she was dressed abnormally modest compared to the other times he'd seen her, but what caught his eye was the contusions on her neck. The evidence of recent strangulation. The contrast between her porcelain skin and the deep purple bruising bothered him more than he would like to admit.

Bulma followed his line of sight and gingerly touched her neck. "That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about," she said softly.

Him? She was getting violently choked by Zarbon (he assumed) and she wanted to talk to _him_ about it?

"Why me?" Vegeta questioned without thinking.

"I don't know," she replied shyly. Bulma was blushing like a schoolgirl and she realized there wasn't a logical reason she sought him out. "I don't really know anyone else on this ship," she added.

"And what makes you think you know me?" he laughed. Vegeta stopped eating to give the human his attention. He lazily propped his elbow on the table and rested his chin in his hand. He stared at her expectantly, curious to hear her reply.

' _She really is quite attractive_ ,' he thought. If he had feelings, he might even say he was upset that someone would harm such a delicate creature.

"Why do you have to be so difficult?" she complained. "I thought you liked me."

"What would give you that ridiculous idea?" Vegeta frowned.

Intrigued by? Sure.

But like? He didn't like anyone, especially not beautiful blue-haired humans who got him into trouble.

"Your tail," she said with a smirk. At first, he thought she was referring to yesterday, but then he noticed his tail was no longer wrapped around his waist but instead tickling her leg under the table. He growled at his traitorous tail and consciously retracted it. He was surprised by his body's reaction to her, she was testing his self-control.

"What do you want?" Vegeta asked curtly.

"I want you to teach me how to fight," Bulma declared, "actually more so self-defense." Vegeta couldn't hide the shock in his face. This human had a lower power level than a Saiyan infant, and she thought she could learn how to fight?

"That sounds like a waste of both our time," Vegeta replied honestly.

"C'mon, please? I'll trade you for anything?" Bulma offered. She was so married to this idea that she was willing to go the distance in order to make it happen.

" _Anything?_ " he repeated with a smirk and a cocked eyebrow. Damn, she just gave him every opportunity to make things dirty. It was so easy, but her reaction never stopped being funny.

Bulma looked away shyly and flushed at his suggestion. She contemplated if she would give him anything, and the tingling feeling between her legs leaned toward yes.

"I'm only kidding, I wouldn't trade for that. I want you to _beg_ for that," he said in a sexy whisper. Her blush intensified, and she felt the heat spread to her neck. A knot of tension formed in the pit of her stomach at imaging the tortuously delicious ministrations he could provide that would make her beg for him. He was always having this effect on her.

Vegeta chuckled at her reaction. In the few days he had known her, she had gone from having suicidal thoughts to seeking ways to overcome her circumstances. Though he thought her pursuit of strength was futile, he admired the fire that now blazed in her eyes. Ultimately he agreed.

"You can meet me in the gymnasium this evening, we can begin after I've completed my own training,"

Satisfied with their agreement, Bulma was about to get up, but another question plagued her mind. She just had to know.

"Can I ask you one more question?"

"You just did," Vegeta said in a bored tone. Bulma rolled her eyes at his smart ass reply and proceeded to ask her real question.

"Why did you just let Zarbon hit you yesterday? I saw you fight, you could have easily dodged or blocked it."

"I took it so he would be satisfied enough to leave me alone. The consequences of engaging with him are not worth the headache."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"I'm stronger than Zarbon. I know that, he knows that, everyone in that room knew that. I could easily beat the shit out of him if I pleased, but doing so would get me an immediate and unrestrained beating from Frieza. So one punch from Zarbon or two days in a regeneration tank? I think the choice is obvious."

"Wait, Frieza as in _the_ Frieza? Why would he care if you beat up Zarbon?"

"Do you really not know who Zarbon is? He's practically Frieza's lapdog."

* * *

Bulma entered the training room later that day, wearing her same leggings but now an athletic hoodie.

"Don't you have anything a little tighter to wear?" Vegeta asked. He himself wore a skin-tight royal blue training suit and white boots. It was his typical combat gear, minus the chest armor and gloves.

"Tighter?" she repeated confused. Bulma wasn't sure if this was one of his jokes with underlying sexual meaning.

"Yes tighter. Loose-fitting clothing creates opportunities for your opponent to grab onto you and gain control," he stated seriously.

She supposed that made sense. Bulma pulled off her hoodie, leaving only a sports bra. Vegeta wanted to admire delicate, feminine curves but was too distracted by the bruising on her body that matched that of her neck.

Bulma attempted an attack, but in an instant, Vegeta took her legs out from under her. He didn't let her hit the mat very hard, but he was on top of her with his forearm pressed against her throat.

"You're slow," he commented. She whimpered at the pressure on her bruised neck and he let up but held his position.

She was surprised when his fingers gently skimmed over the bruises on her neck. Bulma remained quiet and let him examine the evidence of her abuse. His face was expressionless, but his eyes seemed sad.

"We can wait until your injuries are healed to do this," Vegeta finally said, as his hand held her jaw and his thumb traced over her bottom lip. One would think he meant the training, but in Bulma's gut, she hoped he meant something else entirely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had this idea, started writing it in October of 2018, then dropped it to focus on another idea that was also eventually dropped so I could focus on [Obsession](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17734073/chapters/41839796) (my 2019 smutfest entry).
> 
> Then as luck would have it Lady Vegeets wrote a titanic AU for smutfest and I decided this would never see the light of day because I didn’t want to be compared to her or accused of ripping off her idea.


	3. You're the One that I Want (Grease AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> High School/ Grease AU. Bulma and Vegeta shared a magical summer fling they wished never had to end. As fate would have it, Bulma transferred to Vegeta’s school that fall. How will the heiress adjust to new friends and a new school where Vegeta’s reputation doesn’t match up with the boy she fell for?

Vegeta sat on the school bleachers, elbows propped up on the row behind him, and stared blankly at the sky with an unlit cigarette hanging out of his mouth.

“Vegeta?” a voice beside him called. 

‘ _The sky is the same color as her hair_ ,’ he mused.

“Earth to Vegeta!” the voice persisted. 

“Huh?” Vegeta replied turning to his friends who were also lounging on the bleachers. They all wore a leather jacket in lieu of their school blazers, himself included. They were known around the school as the ‘The Saiyans’ the toughest, most badass group of troublemakers at West City Academy.

“I said,” Goku huffed, “what did you do this summer?”

“Oh, I spent most of the summer at this ritzy resort with my family. It was on this island that’s like nine miles of the coast of South City. It’s for rich people, I wouldn’t expect you plebs to know about it,” Vegeta bragged.

Nappa rolled his eyes before he continued, “I mostly trained, hung out on the beach, and fooled around with this babe. Nothing too crazy.”

“Wait! You met a girl?” Raditz perked up, “tell me more!”

“I’m not about to give you the dirty details,” Vegeta scoffed “I don’t need you jacking off to my experiences.”

Raditz flipped him off and laughed right as the homeroom bell rang. The group gathered their belongings and made their way into the school, passing a group of jocks donning letterman’s jackets. 

“Fucking clowns,” Vegeta coughed loud enough for them to hear. The baseball team captain, Yamcha, shot him a searing glare over his shoulder as the rest of the Saiyans snickered.

* * *

Bulma sighed as she entered the doors of another new school. Her family’s company, Capsule Corporation, had been growing rapidly and her father was adamant that he be the one to open every new branch. The blue-haired heiress admired her father’s commitment, but moving to a new school almost every year was draining. She contemplated how to make new friends as she nervously navigated the halls. 

When Bulma finally made it to her homeroom, she sat in the first available seat. Next to her was a girl with raven black hair sitting on top of the desk and giggling at the boy talking to her. The raven-haired girl wore a tighter shirt and shorter skirt, stockings instead of socks, and heels as opposed to Bulma’s modest loafers. 

She couldn’t believe they were wearing the same uniform, this girl looked so much more grown up with her winged eyeliner and pouty pink lipstick. Bulma began to feel homely by comparison. 

The raven-haired girl must have noticed her staring because when she slipped into her chair she addressed Bulma directly. “You must be new here!” she said, as she pulled a pink scarf from her book bag and tied it around her neck. “I’m Chi Chi, what’s your name?”

“Hi,” the blue-haired girl replied shyly, “I’m Bulma.”

They began to talk and Bulma told Chi Chi about her family, moving, and how West City Academy was the third high school she’s been to. The raven-haired girl listened intently making her feel more comfortable, even while detailing the romance she shared with a super cute, super sweet boy this summer. When the bell rang, the two girls walked out of class together. 

“Let me see your schedule!” Chi Chi said as she snatched the paper from Bulma’s hands. After scanning the paper with her dark brown eyes, the raven-haired girl turned back to her. “All advanced classes?” she asked with a surprised smile, “You must be a smarty-pants!” Bulma blushed unsure how to reply. 

“I like you,” Chi Chi declared. “We don’t normally do this, but I’d like to invite you to sit with me and my friends at lunch for the rest of the week! And if they like you too, you can join our group!”

Bulma wasn’t sure she would fit in with a group of girls who dressed like Chi Chi, but she was in no position to pass up friends, so she smiled and nodded in agreement. The blue-haired girl continued through her morning classes with nothing noteworthy happening. 

During lunch, Bulma followed her new friend outside where they met up with another girl who had a sleek blonde bob and was dressed identically to Chi Chi down to the pink scarf around her neck. 

“This is my new friend, Bulma. I want to invite her to be a Pink Dragon,” Chi Chi announced cheerfully. 

The blonde’s icy eyes combed over her appearance with scrutiny. Bulma self consciously brushed her blue hair behind her ear. 

“She seems too pure to be Pink, but whatever,” the blonde said flatly, before walking away. The two girls followed closely behind. 

“Don’t mind Eighteen,” Chi Chi whispered to Bulma, “most people think she’s a bitch, but she’s a really great friend.”

“I heard that,” Eighteen said as they sat down at a nearby table. 

“What? I said you were a great friend!” Chi Chi defended. 

“Hey sluts!” another blonde girl called cheerfully as she joined the table. “Who’s the new girl?”

“That’s Bulma. Chi Chi seems to have adopted her, even wants her to join the Pink Dragons,” Eighteen explained, taking a sip of her soda. 

“Bulma, this is Launch,” Chi Chi introduced. She noticed that Launch also wore a pink scarf around her neck. The girls ate their lunch and gossiped. Chi Chi tried to engage Bulma in the conversation by forcing her to retell the tale of her summer fling. 

“I don’t know,” Bulma gushed, “he was so handsome and charming. He was all muscly and rough, but when he kissed me, he was so tender.”

“You’re a virgin, aren’t you?” Eighteen questioned with a chuckle.

But before Bulma mutter out her flustered reply, Chi Chi interjected, “Ugh, I could just roll over and DIE with envy!”

“Why?” Launch laughed, “You could totally have a boyfriend if you wanted! Goku Son literally can’t keep his hands off you!” Chi Chi blushed knowing it was true. 

“Speak of the Saiyans,” Eighteen called as a group of rowdy, leather-clad boys approached. 

“Hi boys!” Chi Chi squealed excitedly, her dark brown gaze fixed on one in particular. 

“Hey there, Chi Chi!” Goku said with a sweet smile as he sat and put his arm around her. The raven-haired girl snuggled in close to the new guest at their table as they whispered and made eyes at each other.

Bulma counted four boys in total. The one that sat next to Chi Chi, who she figured was Goku. A huge bald one, then there was one with a wild mane of black hair that was eyeing her flirtatiously, and the fourth stood behind the others seemingly disinterested and out of her field of vision.

"And where’s _his highness_ , Prince Vegeta?” Eighteen mocked. Bulma gaped at Eighteen, startled by hearing the familiar name.

“Right here,” Vegeta gruffed as he put a cigarette in his mouth and stared off into the distance, still not giving his full attention to the table of girls. 

“Oh,” Eighteen said, feigning surprise, “I guess I didn’t see you. I thought maybe you’d grow this summer, but I see you're still short.”

He pushed in front of his friends to glare directly at Eighteen with his signature scowl. “And I see your still a fucking cunt!” Vegeta spat. Eighteen snorted a laugh, completely unshaken by his abrasiveness. Then he saw blue out of the corner of his eye, he turned and found _her_.

The girl from this summer.

Bulma. 

Her blue eyes were wide with shock, but he wasn’t sure if it was because of his presence or his harsh language. They stared in silence for a moment before Chi Chi followed his gaze and piped up. 

“Oh! This is the new girl, we’re thinking about inviting her to be a Pink Dragon!” she announced excitedly. 

“I think that’s a great idea,” Raditz replied as he made his way over to Bulma’s side of the table, “what’s your name, beautiful?”

Bulma was frozen, her eyes still locked on Vegeta’s. She couldn’t believe he was right in front of her.

“Bulma?” Vegeta finally said, not purposefully answering Raditz’s question, more so posing his own. All three of the Pink Dragons turned to gawk at him. 

“Wait? Do you know each other?” Chi Chi questioned incredulously. 

Bulma found her voice. “It's him,” she said barely above a whisper, “from this summer.”

“Vegeta Ouji is the sensitive dreamboat you were just mooning over? I call bullshit,” Eighteen laughed. 

“Seriously,” Raditz whined. “There’s a hot new girl at our school and Vegeta already fucked her? That’s so unfair!”

Vegeta cringed and Bulma blushed furiously. _What had Vegeta told his friends about their summer together? Why would he exaggerate their physical relationship unless he was disappointed?_ Deciding she could no longer cope with this situation, Bulma got up and declared, “I have to go.” Then retreated into the school with haste.

“Great! You apes scared her away!” Bulma heard a exasperated Chi Chi say, as she made her way through the courtyard.

In her rush back in the building, Bulma bumped into another girl with a bouncy teal ponytail. “OMG!” the girl squealed. “Aren’t you Bulma Briefs from East City Prep? Well, I guess you go here now! But when I saw you at last year’s cheer nationals, I was like that girl is a STAR! OMG! You HAVE to join our squad! Please, please, please!”

She could barely focus on what the girl was saying, still reeling from her encounter with Vegeta. “Yeah, sure, I’ll think about it,” the blue-haired girl replied noncommittally before walking away.

Bulma had dreamed of seeing Vegeta again, but never did she imagine it would be like this.

* * *

The bell rang to dismiss the students on Friday afternoon. Vegeta made it through the first week of senior year, but he was more than a little disappointed he hadn’t seen Bulma again. No doubt she was avoiding him after having witnessed him verbally assault her new friend.

Vegeta strolled toward the front door with his backpack hanging off one shoulder and a cigarette behind his ear. As he left the building, he was greeted by the brassy cacophony that is marching band music and a group of jocks and cheerleaders excitedly encouraging all the exiting students to come to the first football game of the season. 

“School spirit is for fucking losers,” Vegeta muttered to no one in particular as he walked toward his car.

“Is that what you think?” a small voice called from behind him. He turned to find Bulma looking too fucking cute in a tiny cheerleading uniform. 

“I…uh..” Vegeta stuttered. ' _Do I really have to answer that question_?’ he thought. There was so much more he needed to say to her. He wanted to pick up where they left off this summer and forget about everything that happened on the first day of school.

“I was hoping that maybe you would come see me perform at the football game tonight. Then after... we could talk?” she said shyly. That’s exactly what he wanted, but before he could reply, a squeaky voice interjected.

“Hey, Bulma,” another cheerleader with a bouncy teal ponytail called, “I have someone who would _love_ to meet you!” 

Bulma broke her stare with Vegeta to look at her teammate. “Hey Puar,” she replied, “just give me a sec."

“We're supposed to be getting other students to come to the game tonight,” Puar reminded, before eying Vegeta, "but I think this one’s a lost cause.” Vegeta scowled at the bratty cheerleader as Nappa and Raditz came to join the conversation. 

“Are you going to the football game, Vegeta?” Raditz asked sarcastically, as he threw his arm around his friend’s shoulder. Vegeta looked at Bulma who eyed him expectantly, then to Raditz and Nappa who were on the verge of laughter.

Attending a school sporting event would be really out of character for him. He had a ’too cool for school’ image he was trying to maintain, plus he found all the self-important jocks at this school rather annoying.

“Not a fucking chance,” Vegeta grumbled before shrugging Raditz off and storming off into the parking lot. He looked back just in time to catch Puar introducing Bulma to Yamcha of all people. 

* * *

The football team won the game, but Bulma found it hard to be very cheery. She was so disappointed by her interaction with Vegeta after school, not to mention she was a little mortified over how rude he was in front of so many people. She couldn’t understand how he was so different from the boy she met over the summer.

Bulma’s musings were interrupted by the approach of Chi Chi and Eighteen. They were dressed casually but still wore pink scarves around their necks. The blue-haired girl had observed it was a symbol of their clique.

"Bulma!” Chi Chi greeted, “You were so cute out there! So, what are you doing for the rest of the weekend?"

"Oh, I don’t know,” Bulma mumbled, "that baseball player, Yamcha asked me to go out with him tonight, but I don’t think I’m going to go." 

"OOH! You should totally go, then you can come to our sleepover on Saturday night and dish!” Chi Chi squealed excitedly.

Bulma sighed, "That’s really nice of you to invite me, but I’m just not feeling up to it. Everything that happened with Vegeta has got me…”

“UGH!” Eighteen interrupted her mumbling with an exaggerated groan, before marching right up to Bulma and grabbing the sides of her face. The blonde’s icy eyes stared into her soul. “Bulma, look at me,” Eighteen commanded as if she had a choice.

“If you’re going to be a Pink Dragon, you have to _know_ that you are hot shit. Got it?” Bulma softly nodded, before the blonde continued, "Don’t get me wrong, Vegeta Ouji is a sexy motherfucker, but I’m sure there are plenty of guys at this school that would throw themselves into traffic to date a girl like you. So go out with Yamcha tonight, come to our sleepover tomorrow, and for god's sake stop moping."

Eighteen released her face before stomping away and Bulma looked over to Chi Chi. “Text me what you decide,” the raven-haired girl shrugged before following her friend. 

Bulma stood there contemplating Eighteen’s words. She was seriously hung up on Vegeta and that was preventing her from new experiences and relationships this school was offering. Bulma decided to take the blonde's advice and simultaneously realized she really did want to be a Pink Dragon. 

‘ _You are hot shit_ ,’ Bulma told herself.

With newfound confidence, Bulma searched through the crowd for Yamcha to let him know she’s accepting his invitation for tonight’s date. Suddenly, a rough hand firmly grabbed her wrist, when Bulma turned, she already knew who the hand belonged to. 

“What?” she growled, her tone annoyed.

Vegeta surveyed the crowd, before whispering, “Let's go somewhere and talk.”

“No,” Bulma replied curtly.

“No?” he questioned, clearly surprised by her response, "Why not?"

"Well a couple of reasons,” Bulma began, "One, you act like your embarrassed to be seen with me. You blew me off when your friends were around, and even now your so on edge like someone might see you talking to me. Second, I’m busy. I have a date tonight."

_‘Embarrassed to be seen with her? That wasn’t it at all!’_ he thought. He was embarrassed to be seen supporting the jocks that he so loathed. _'Wait, did she say date?_ ’ 

Vegeta’s puzzled expression shifted into a scowl, "A date? With who? Don’t tell me its that prick, Yamcha?"

"Yamcha is really nice, much nicer than you,” she sassed. "This summer I almost thought I was _in love_ with you, but now seeing you here, the _real you_ , it ruined any hope I had of us continuing our relationship. In fact, it made everything we shared feel fake. Probably as fake as the stories you told your friends about your summer conquests.”

With that, Bulma tried to storm off, but Vegeta pulled her back, his hand still gripping her wrist. “Please, can you just let me explain?” he pleaded.

"Not a fucking chance,” she threw his words back in his face, as she jerked her hand from his grip and walked away.

* * *

“Yamcha was really sweet,” Bulma gossiped, “but he just talked about himself the whole time.” 

Bulma, Chi Chi, and Eighteen were all lounging in their pajamas in Chi Chi’s spacious and girly bedroom. Bulma was really glad she decided to join them at their sleepover. The two girls made her feel welcome, but their choice of sleepwear further emphasized the difference between them.

Chi Chi was wearing a silky, cheetah print sleep dress with black lace trim and Eighteen wore a pair of tiny striped shorts and a tank that read ‘don’t talk to me 'til I've had my coffee’. Bulma, on the other hand, just wore an old, oversized Capsule Corp tee shirt. It never really occurred to her that looking good while you sleep is important.

“Men!” Chi Chi shook her head and squeezed the fluffy, pink pillow she was holding. “Did you still hook up with him, though?” She added with a laugh. It was apparent that that’s what Chi Chi would have done. Only a week at WCA and Bulma had heard rumors that Chi Chi was quite the flirt.

“Oh no no!” Bulma giggled shyly, “just a little peck good night.” The date with Yamcha wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t even close to the chemistry she experienced with Vegeta over the summer.

Eighteen snorted a laugh as she looked up from her phone. “I can’t imagine Bulma hooking up with anyone! She’s too innocent!” Eighteen looked directly at Bulma before she continued, “Real talk though, how did you keep Vegeta’s attention for an entire summer without putting out?”

“Shut up!” Chi Chi screamed, “we aren’t talking about him!” The raven-haired girl shot Eighteen a death glare for being so rude. Both the girls knew Vegeta was a sensitive subject after the train wreck that was their reunion on the first day of school.

“It's ok,” Bulma replied quietly, “I didn’t go _that_ far with him. Well, I mean, I’ve never been that far with anyone.” Eighteen and Chi Chi exchanged a look.

“We know sweetie,” Chi Chi said gently, “we could tell just by looking at you.”

“But what’s worse is I think he lied to his friends about us going that far,” Bulma confessed uncomfortably. The thought of Vegeta lying to his friends about the extent of their relationship made her feel like what they did have wasn’t good enough. That it didn’t mean as much to him as it did to her, and that’s probably what hurt the most.

“Sex. You can say the word ‘sex', Bulma,” Eighteen said. "He lied to his friends about having sex with you, because he’s a pathetic jerk, and now we hate him for you.”

“Totally!” Chi Chi agreed.

Eighteen sat up from the bean bag she was lounging on. “Oh my gods, I have a brilliantly evil idea!” she declared. The blonde leaned in conspiratorially before continuing, “we’ll give you a little makeover and turn you into a sexy, badass man-eater. And when Vegeta and all his friends…”

“Except for Goku!” Chi Chi interjected.

“Except for Goku,” Eighteen repeated with a smirk and a side-eye at Chi Chi, “are drooling all over you, and he’s begging for you to go out with him, you can publicly reject and embarrass him." 

“First of all, that is evil,” Chi Chi said with a giggle, “second of all, I love it. Especially the makeover part!"

Bulma sighed. She wasn’t sure if she really wanted _revenge_ on Vegeta, she really just wanted to be with him, or at the least the him she met this summer. 

Then she remembered how terribly embarrassed she felt at lunch on the first day of school or before the football game when she wanted to give him a chance to explain his behavior. In the few interactions they had this week, he managed to hurt her feelings in all of them. 

She felt so empowered when she stood up for herself after the game and told him no. Maybe a little makeover would give her the confidence to be that brave all the time. If Vegeta getting embarrassed was a consequence of her standing up for herself, then so be it.

“Yeah okay,” Bulma agreed to Eighteen’s plan.

* * *

It was Sunday evening and the Saiyans sat in Goku’s loft drinking cheap beer and playing violent video games. Vegeta wasn’t invested in the games or the conversations his friends were having. All week his thoughts were consumed with Bulma. At every opportunity, he made a complete ass of himself in front of her. Then when she blew him off to go out with Yamcha, he knew he needed to step up his game tenfold if he wanted a second chance.

When Nappa and Raditz got up to leave, Vegeta looked across the room at Goku who was giving the goofiest smile at his phone. He rolled his eyes, knowing exactly who Goku was texting. Something about his friend’s obvious romantic success vexed him. 

“Hey, Vegeta,” Goku said, finally looking up.

“What?” he replied, slightly annoyed.

“Chi Chi wanted me to tell you that the Pink Dragons officially hate you,” he said as if it was no big deal, still looking as his phone as he laid on an old loveseat, his head resting on one arm of the sofa while his legs hung over the other.

Vegeta ran a hand down his face with a groan sunk further into the bean bag he was sprawled out on. “Awesome, she really means Bulma hates me,” Vegeta sighed. He was worse off than he realized if her little clique was declaring war against him. He needed a plan to win her over, and fast.

“The girl with the blue hair? I thought you guys hung out all summer?” Goku said confused as he set his phone down to give his friend his full attention. It wasn’t that surprising that Goku was completely oblivious to the events that transpired over the past week. 

“Yeah, well, I was kind of an ass to her this week, so now I need to figure out how to make it up to her,” Vegeta grumbled. “But now she might be going out with that asshole baseball player Yamcha."

“Well if she likes baseball players then why don’t you join the team?” Goku suggested as if that was the logical thing to do. "Ooo! We could do it together!”

“I hate everything about that idea,” Vegeta glared. But Goku just continued grinning at him with an eyebrow raised.

* * *

* * *

Written August 2018

Based on the date, I realized this was the most developed story I had written after <a href="<https://archiveofourown.org/works/15517053/chapters/36019182>">College 101</a>. But then the idea for <a href="<https://archiveofourown.org/works/15790668/chapters/36744750>">Camp Four Star</a> happened, and I just felt like that was more fresh and fun, and I didn’t want to post two high school AUs in a row. So this one fell by the wayside and didn’t get picked back up. I thought the story was cute, but reading fics I wrote that long ago makes me realize how far my writing has come. 

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on twitter at vegebul_soup!


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